


A Little Love

by milyyuri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milyyuri/pseuds/milyyuri
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky, flower shop owner, notices a new business taking root right across the street.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a little bit ooc because they've grown up more and become a bit more mature. hope you enjoy! ;)

Yuri never really thought about flowers much until his ballet instructor Lilia passed away, leaving her side job and hobby as a florist to the younger man's hands. The blonde would almost be upset, if not for the fact that he felt extremely guilty every time he so much as _began_ to complain about the workload. _Baranovskaya Bouquets_ needed him, especially since Lilia didn't have any family she trusted with her business. Yuri was the closest thing to a child she had ever had, and her ex-husband and co-trainer of Yuri already died a few years prior to Yuri's surprise entrepreneurship. 

The Russian loved his job, to an extent, but it was quite boring when you were constantly surrounded by flowers. They certainly don't have a track record of being fantastic company. However, when a "SOLD" sign was plastered on the building across the street from him, he suddenly grew increasingly excited to go to work.

The building across the street had never, in his past three years of being in the flower shop, had a business last there for longer than a month. The place was like a graveyard for brand new companies, and whoever dared to clean the place up ended up giving up. It was past saving, and it looked more like a horror movie set than a place where a regular store would be. Yuri could almost smell the foreclosure.

A few weeks passed and soon he saw a few people moving chairs and other furniture in, as well as what looked like a few painters. He was curious, to say the least, when every single piece of furniture they brought inside the shop was black. Was it a funeral home? How fitting, for the decor. But when the movers stared bringing in boxes of what looked like small machines, he began to wonder.

After five weeks of renovation and preparation, a tattoo parlor opened up across the street, and Yuri could not be more ecstatic. Finally, something interesting to look at while he arranged bouquets. A tattoo parlor always had interesting people coming and going, and he was sure at least a couple would stop by the flower shop just to glance and see if they wanted a tattoo of a flower. It was cliche, but he knew he's be able to tell people which flowers would look best on tattoos. It wasn't like he hadn't thought of getting a tattoo or two, but he had always gotten a fierce glare from Lilia whenever he mentioned the prospect. Ballet dancers didn't have tattoos, she said. Yuri grumbled to himself. He had been without a ballet instructor for three years, why hadn't he thought of getting one before?

The blonde sighed and rested his chin on his hand, leaning over the counter and staring at the small shop filled with neat rows of flowers. His gaze instinctively slipped to the parlor across the street, noticing the strange lack of people. A large "Opening Day Sale" sign was plastered across the front of it, and it made Yuri frown. The place was strangely silent. Obviously it was opening day, because of the damn sign, but why was no one there? Yuri almost missed the small chiming of the bell on the door, his eyes blinking rapidly as he brushed himself off and forced a smile.

"Welcome to Baranovskaya's Bouquets, we have-" Yuri froze, his mouth widening slightly as he took in the sight in front of him. A man not much shorter than he was (thank god for puberty, he thought) stood, covered in tattoos and with amazing eyes, right in front of him and wearing a tanktop that would almost be considered scandalous. His arms were covered in tattoos that ranged from waterfalls and forests, to animals and a flag that Yuri didn't recognize. The blonde quickly regained his composure, coughing awkwardly before he began to speak his rehearsed line.

"We have a multitude of different flowers, and I can arrange for you to receive a pre-ordered bouquet, if you're interested."

Oh god, he thought. This guy was hot, but he had the most intense stare that Yuri had ever seen. The blonde raised an eyebrow at the silence, dark eyes flirting away from the contact and landing on a nearby batch of yellow roses, the man glancing back towards the flower shop owner.

"Could I have bouquet arranged? Something that would look nice for a decoration."

Yuri smirked,"Usually all flowers are used for decoration, but alright. It'll be five ninety-three, with tax, upon pickup. It'll be two dollars for now as the down payment."

The man seemed to like this answer, pulling out his wallet and flicking through some cash before pulling the correct amount. This gave the blonde enough time to study the man's crisp undercut, a flush spreading across his face. How did he pull off a haircut like that without looking like a fuckboy? Honestly, it was probably because he dressed like he just walked out of Hot Topic. Which Yuri had no problem with, he got his favorite leopard patterned shirt from there, but it was just interesting to see someone out in public wearing more than one edgy item. He rung up the amount, handing Otabek the receipt. Who the hell was he? Some kind of- Yuri froze. The tattoo parlor.

"Do you own the business across the street?" he asked, slipping the cash into the register and writing down the order before glancing over at the other. The tattooed man nodded, tucking the receipt in his back pocket and holding out his right hand.

"Yep. Otabek Altin. I own Altin Tattoos. Nice to meet you...?"

"Yuri Plisetsky." He replied, smiling and shaking the man's hand. It was warm, and the blonde's skin tingled at the contact.

"It's nice to meet you too, Otabek."

The tattooed gentleman waved goodbye, leaving as quickly as he came. Yuri held a hand to his chest, his pulse rapid.

"Holy fuck."

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks Otabek would drop by and buy a bouquet or two, make small talk, and then leave while Yuri had a stupid grin on his face the whole rest of the day. Mila and Georgi, his apartment neighbors on either side of him, would annoyingly ask him if he was dating anyone. Of course not, Yuri would reply, that would mean that he'd actually found someone that could deal with his dramatics. In all honesty, he was a little pissed about the whole relationship. Did Otabek want to date? Be friends? Stay strangers? The blonde groaned and buried his head in his hands, his long hair flowing over his face as he mumbled incoherently.

"Problem?"

Yuri fell silent at the sound, glancing up to see the smirking face of Otabek. He brushed himself off, flushing and putting on his best glare.

"Shut up, Altin. Now what do you want?"

The man raised a brow and smiled at the tone, but otherwise said nothing about the attitude.

"One tigerlily, please."

Yuri nodded, ringing it up on the register as his eyes drifting from the swirling mass of tattoos adorning the man's arms and the flower he was wrapping behind the counter. As he held out his hand for the money, he was surprised when Otabek just stared at him. The Russian's brow furrowed.

"What-"

"Would you like to go out with me?"

The blonde jolted, taken aback, eyes wide,"Whoah, what? This is sudden, I- I don't know if-"

Otabek shrugged, handing the man the money,"I've been in town for over a month and we've only ever talked during your work hours. The parlor isn't usually busy Monday through Friday from nine to five, It's more of a night place. Let's go out to eat sometime."

Yuri breathed a sigh of relief,"I thought you were properly asking me out, I almost had a heart attack, dumbass!"

"And what would be the problem of dating me, exactly?"

The man held his purchase up,"Thanks for the flower."

The blonde stood, frozen to the spot, as the tattoo artist left with a small chime of a bell. What the fuck.

* * *

 

A week later, Yuri got Otabek's number after shouting about him being "dumb" and "a fucking menace" once the other business owner decided to withhold that personal information. Almost two hours after he got the man's number, he sent him a quick text.

Hey.

Not a moment later, his phone binged.

Hey. Business is slow.

What did you expect for a Monday at ten in the morning? Wanna call it quits for a few hours and get something to eat like you suggested before?

Sure. Be there in a sec.

See you soon.

Yuri glanced at his phone and quickly realized: he probably looked like shit. He quickly ran his hands through his hair, tying it up in a ponytail. It had grown to be quite the nuisance after it grew past his shoulders, the long hair ending up in every crevice in his house. He even found a piece of hair in his cereal box, for god's sake.

After fussing over himself for a moment and taking off the work apron he wore, he grabbed his wallet and slipped on his leather jacket. A personal favorite of his, he got it once he realized the inner layer was lined with leopard patterned silk. He couldn't resist, and it was wedding season so it wasn't like he couldn't afford the damn thing anyway.

Otabek showed up only moments later, holding two helmets and wearing a leather jacket way too good looking to be fair, but also way too prude for the tattoos he was hiding. Yuri then realized. Helmets? The other man must have read his expression, because he quickly elaborated.

"Motorcycle. I know a good place to eat."

He tossed the helmet and Yuri caught it, smiling and walking out of the store. The blonde slipped on the helmet, sat behind the other man, and hoped against all odds he wouldn't fall off or pop a boner while riding the damn thing. He hesitantly slipped his arms around Otabek's waist, swallowing nervously. The man drove off, the Russian's hair whipping in the wind. After driving through the city streets, Otabek pulled over in front of a small restaurant with a cute logo of a pig. The blonde crinkled his nose in confusion, before realizing it was a barbecue.

Yuri slipped off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling apart the knots before noticing Otabek's stare. The Russian flushed, shooting a glare at the other man,"What?"

Otabek smiled, setting his helmet on the set of the motorcycle,"Nothing. Let's eat."

As they walked in, Yuri hummed in disapproval,"So we're eating barbecue? Seems very American of you."

"Sure, Yuri." The other man responded, a teasing glint in his eye as he showed the Russian in. It was a nice place with round tables, and a rather small bar with colorful cups and what looked to be an over-enthusiastic bartender. They were seated, orders taken, and water distributed.

"So tell me about yourself," Yuri spoke, taking a sip of his drink. The tattoo artist shrugged, glancing back up to meet the blonde's gaze.

"I work in a tattoo parlor. Own the place. I'm from Kazakhstan, and I used to live in Almaty. I'm twenty nine."

"Do you like cats?" Yuri prodded, eyebrows raised. It was a deal breaker, of course. He waited expectantly as Otabek thought for a moment.

"Sure. Never had one before, but they seem okay."

The Russian beamed,"Great. I'm glad you think so."

Otabek smiled,"And what about you? Tell me about yourself."

"I own the flower shop across from you, I like cats, I'm twenty six, and I do ballet." The blonde shrugged, taking another sip of his drink,"And I can do the splits three ways."

Otabek choked on his drink, shooting a stern look at the other,"Yuri, you-"

The blonde winked, twirling his fork,"What?"

The food arrived quickly after that, covering the rapidly uncomfortable sexual tension at their table. Yuri dug into the sandwich that he ordered, watching Otabek eat out of the corner of his eye. His blue eyes trailed over the tattoos, noting the way they shifted as Otabek's arm shifted and flexed while he ate. The blonde swallowed thickly, turning his gaze down. Oh, he was _fucked_.

"Do you have a nickname?"

Yuri hummed,"Not really, but my grandfather used to call me Yurochka."

Otabek smiled,"Can I call you Yura?"

The blonde scrunched his nose, laughing,"Only if I can call you Beka!"

They laughed, continuing to talk the evening away and completely forgetting to return to work. It was a Monday anyway, who even needed flowers on Mondays in September?

* * *

 

_**Two Years Later** _

"Beka! Make sure you grab the promotional sheets for work today, and feed the cat! I'll start the bike!"

Yuri grabbed his coat and slung his bag over his shoulder, running down the stairs and checking his watch. Shit. They were going to be late. He fished the keys out of his pocket and started the bike, throwing on his helmet and glancing back at the door to their apartment complex. Otabek comes out, running a hand through his hair as he catches the helmet thrown to him by Yuri.

"Step on it, Yura."

"I'm on it, babe. Hold on tight. I'm not about to get murdered by Mila a second time."

 

_"How many times do I have to tell you guys, how am I supposed to help you plan your wedding if you two never show up to the meetings on time? Honestly!"_

 

**FIN**


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